


Second Chances

by Benson_Arizona



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, aka: alexi's not dead, its not a fun fic if nobody gets murdered, mostly low chaos anyway, sorta follows the plot of dishonored 2, with exceptions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 18:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10341189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benson_Arizona/pseuds/Benson_Arizona
Summary: It begins as the day always does: with grief and anger for a life lost too soon.  But it ends with blood and tears, and a blow so close to her heart that she can hardly believe she yet breathes.





	

It was a busy day in Dunwall. The fifteenth anniversary of the death of Jessamine Kaldwin. Alexi sighed. She had been with Emily for thirteen of those years, and each time the day came around she could see the change in her. She was less focused, less prepared. Which was probably why she had left the royal signet ring lying on the floor of her office. She sighed again. 

Emily had still been asleep when she left her that morning. She looked peaceful, lying there with her hair wild and her body relaxed. It had been hard to leave. But the watch needed preparing and the palace needed inspecting, so she had gone. Now, as she stood in the little office, she knew they were nearly ready for the day to begin. Slipping the ring into her pocket, she glanced around the space one last time. A window stood open in the corner, and a few papers had blown onto the floor, but the ledge outside was far too high for potential intruders to use. Satisfied, she began the journey down to the throne room.

She hoped she could catch Emily before the ceremonies began and give her the ring. It never hurt to be ready for trouble, even if one didn’t expect. That was the philosophy Alexi lived by. It had served her well in her time in the watch, and she suspected she would be dead, along with Emily, were she more lackadaisical.

Coming out into the smog filled air of Dunwall and Descending a final flight of stairs, she stopped before the doors of the tower. The silence from within told her Emily was not yet there, and she took a position between the two guardsmen stationed outside. She clasped her hands behind her back, pulling her shoulders back. Days like this, appearances were very important. Aristocrats could smell weakness and secrets like sharks smell blood in water, and she didn’t want to become a weak link in Emily’s protection.

From where she stood, she could see out over the city till the roof tops disappeared in the smoky haze. Gulls called, and over the reek of factories she could smell the sea. A fog horn sounded in the distance, echoing among the stone walls of the tower. The sound reminded her of the woman she had spoken to that morning, Meagan Foster. She had come to talk to Corvo, and Alexi had promised to tell him of her arrival. She wondered casually what had brought Foster all the way from Karnaca. It was a solid week of sailing, and she hardly seemed the sort to undertake such a journey on a whim.

She flexed her shoulders slightly, fighting off the stiffness that tended to settle there when she stood still for too long. The old wounds across her back always acted up before a storm, and today they reminded her of their presence with a constant, dull ache.

What was taking Emily so long? She hoped she was alright. Alexi shook her head. She wished she could have stayed with her, especially on this day. Every anniversary ended the same way: with her holding Emily as she cried herself to sleep. It was hardly fair that she had to be alone, but their relationship was not common knowledge, nor could it ever be.

A sound on the stairs startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked down. Emily was making her way up the long stone steps, her gaze distant and troubled as she looked out over the harbor. She looked up, pausing for a long moment, staring at the banner hanging down over the doors. Alexi stood quiet, waiting for her.

Finally, her posture hardening into something resembling resolve, Emily finished the climb up the stairs. Alexi stepped forward, meeting her just before the doors. She looked haggard, like the morning had taken its toll on her. Her eyes were a little red, and the dark lines on her face told of her turmoil. Alexi reached out, straightening her collar. It was the most she could do here with the empire watching. She hoped her eyes conveyed how much she cared.

“Watch your step,” she paused for a moment, giving the word weight, “Majesty.”

Emily shook her head a little. “I’m not looking forward to all the ceremony today.” Her voice was low, tired.

Alexi understood, but there was nothing she could do to make the day easier. Her hands lingered on Emily’s shoulders for a moment, then she Remembered the reason she had ambushed her at the door in the first place. She reached into her back pocket, finding the ring. “Your signet ring,”- she pressed the ring into Emily’s palm, their fingers brushing together for a moment too long. – “There, you’re ready.”

Emily smiled a little, almost ironically, the slight shake of her head telling Alexi that she thought she would never be ready. Alexi wished she could pull her aside and tell her that of course she was ready. It would never be easy, but she should never doubt her ability to do something. She wanted to tell her that she was the most capable person she had ever known, and very little was beyond her capabilities. But now was hardly the proper time. Again, she hoped her eyes could convey what she felt.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Emily let out a sigh, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. “Thank you, Alexi. Open the doors.”

Alexi bowed her head, turning to push the big doors open. Corvo stood to her left, ready to escort Emily through the room of aristocrats. His presence made her slightly less nervous about Emily’s safety. After all, he was likely among the most skilled assassins to ever walk the earth, and little could get past his prowess. She had trained under him herself for a time, and he taught her many of the skills she used in her present line of duty.

As Emily stepped past her into the room, Captain Ramsey announced her arrival, his voice strangely mocking. Alexi squinted over to him as she moved out of Emily’s way. He was and odd man, sometimes bitter, but he seemed loyal enough.

“Loyal subjects,” Emily’s voice filled the now silent room. “We’re going through a difficult time, but today we honor my mother, the late Jessamine Kaldwin.” She paused, taking a breath. “May her memory survive through the ages.”

Emily was past her now, walking toward Corvo. There was no professional reason for her to linger, so she turned away, letting the heavy doors close behind her. The layer of wood and metal reduced the sound of voices coming from the throne room to a murmur.

Corvo could handle any threat in the throne room itself, of that she was certain. She would be best used on patrol through the palace, looking for developing threats. Guests would come and go, and she had to be sure no wrong-doers slipped through among them. She set out through the grounds, first briefly checking the gardens, then returning to the palace. She walked through the halls, marveling at the silence in the absence of the usual bustle. Guards stood stoic at attention and the staff were all but invisible. Without their voices, the tower lacked its personality. The day couldn’t be over soon enough.

Far away, the throne room doors slammed shut again. She wondered who had arrived. It was hardly a proper moment to intrude, the ceremonies having hardly even begun. Inappropriate, but not enough to warrant a return to the throne room. She continued her patrol with a slight shake of her head. She almost fancied she heard a faint metallic thud, like mechanical footsteps. It reminded her of the Tallboys from the days of the plague. Shuddering, she steered her mind away from those memories.

Then the screams began. For a moment, she didn’t believe her ears. She had left behind the crowded lower floors, patrolling the upper floors. Sounds of violence broke out beneath her, and she rushed down the stairs heedlessly. Two more flights, then she would be back on the ground floor. She had to find Emily.

She dashed through the halls, disregarding stealth. Were something to happen to Emily, she would never forgive herself. Had Corvo failed? She had no reason to believe he had, but the sounds coming from the floor below her were most troubling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement.

Captain Ramsey. He stood in a side passage, a little blood staining his uniform. Had he been carrying someone? She couldn’t tell. Breathless, she slowed, regaining her wind before she reached him. Perhaps he knew what was happening.

“Captain Ramsey! I heard shouting.” As she spoke, she noticed Emily Crumpled at his feet. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she threw caution to the wind, dropping to one knee beside Emily.

“Lady Emily!” Desperation filled her voice. Emily didn’t respond, but her eyes fluttered open. Momentary relief flooded over Alexi. She stood, turning to face Ramsey. “What happened?”

There was a mean twist to his mouth. She hadn’t seen this expression on him before. It didn’t suit him. A moment too late, she saw the blade of the royal protector is his hand. Before she could move, the impossibly sharp steel slid through her body, forcing the air from her lungs. In a haze, she heard Ramsey say something, then Emily’s voice.

Emily. Her vision blurred, shapes blending together. Someone reached out toward her, then it all faded to black. She heard footsteps, the sound of something being dragged away, then nothing.

What felt like just moments later, she awoke. Her side and stomach were on fire where the blade had sheared through her flesh. A million questions flooded her mind. What had come over Ramsey? What had happened? How had Corvo failed? Emily. She had to find Emily.

The final thought spurred her to action.

Grabbing ahold of the railing behind her head, she dragged herself to her feet. Through gritted teeth, she groaned. Stabbing pain ran through her body, and it was all she could do to force herself to move. Where would they take Emily? Perhaps they would try to gain access to the safe room through the royal chambers. Ramsey shouldn’t know that the room existed, but after his betrayal she wouldn’t put anything beyond him.

Supporting herself on the walls, she forced herself forwards. Her blood smeared a gory trail down the ornate halls, and each step was a fresh agony. Finally, she reached the stairs. She dragged herself up, flight after agonizing flight. Her legs gave out, and she pulled herself along on her arms. The royal chambers weren’t far now. She was almost there.

Her vision was growing blurry again, and she hardly remembered forcing herself to her feet one last time. She stumbled into the hall just outside the chambers. Her feet wove drunkenly, and she half-fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor again. She would rest for a moment, then she would go in. Maybe Emily would be there. Maybe she would find her. She coughed, the motion sending a wave of pain cascading through her. The iron taste of blood filled her mouth; it was her own, she realized. Black dots swam in her vision, and it became almost impossible to force herself to stay awake. Some part of her warned that if she gave in to the weariness now, she would never wake again. She fought it, but she could feel it creeping deep into her bones. She was slipping away.

She let her head fall back. Breathe. Just breathe, she told herself. Now that she was done, she hoped Corvo would protect Emily. If Emily still lived. No, she couldn’t think of that now. Maybe the two of them could get away, father and daughter. If only she had been able to tell Corvo of Meagan Foster down at the harbor, perhaps they could have escaped with her. But now there was no time.

A faint breeze blew over her, slipping in from the open window. The windows had become large blocks of light in her fading vision, hardly discernable from their surroundings. Something dark moved through the light, but she couldn’t be sure what it was. She could feel footsteps through the floor, and someone droning on in the background. Who had come through the window?

She strained, blinking. Her vision cleared a little. Emily. Her dark hair was disheveled and a nasty bruise was forming over her left eye. Alexi tried to speak, struggling to draw air into her lungs. “Lady Emily,” she finally forced out, the words tearing free from her tortured chest. “You’re alright. I was worried….” Her words trailed off as her breath ran short.

Something was off, though. Corvo was missing. “Where is the royal protector?” Alexi’s voice was near breaking, and it was becoming harder to speak.

Emily bent down, one of her hands grasping Alexi’s where it lay against the wound, and the other settling on her shoulder. Alexi reached up, grasping her arm. Emily’s face swam into focus, her concerned eyes staring down at Alexi with shock and disbelief. For a moment, she looked too crushed for words. Then she found her voice.

“There is a coup underway. My father is…” She paused for a moment. “He’s imprisoned, for lack of a better word.”

A coup. Emily had to get away. “You have to get out of the tower. Through your safe room.” She and Emily had escaped the tower that way before, slipping away in the night. Perhaps Emily could reach Foster in the harbor. “There was a captain down by the docks earlier today, looking for the royal protector.” She let her hand fall away from Emily’s arm, grasping for the sword lying on the ground beside her. With the last of her strength, she held it out to her. “Find her,” she begged, feeling her consciousness slipping away. “Get out of Dunwall.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and the world flickered and faded. The last thing she saw was Emily, leaning down, unheard words spilling from her lips.

****

“Alexi!” Panic rose in Emily as Alexi’s head slumped forward, her eyes slipping shut. “No!”

Frantic, she reached out, feeling for a pulse in her neck. It was still there, thready beneath her fingers. She sighed with relief, sitting back on her heals. She would have to stem the steady flow of blood seeping through Alexi’s jacket if she was to live. Glancing around the room, her eyes settled on one of her shirts flung carelessly over the back of a chair. It would have to do. She retrieved it, tearing it into strips as she hurried back to Alexi’s side. She wound the strips around her tightly, the fabric compressing the wounds and slowing the escape of her blood.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her fingers stroking over Alexi’s cheek. “I’ll be back for you. I promise.”

She had to get the key from Ramsey. Then she could get Alexi the help she needed. Beside Alexi’s slumped form, she noticed a letter. She picked it up, glancing through it swiftly. It was from someone called Meagan Foster. She had wanted to meet with her father. She must be the captain Alexi had spoken of.

Ramsey would be in the lower chambers, finishing securing the tower. She didn’t know what she would do once she saw him. Though she was outwardly calm, just as Corvo had taught her to be, her blood was boiling. The image of the blade slipping so effortlessly through Alexi’s body was seared into her mind, replaying over and over whenever her thoughts turned to Ramsey.

Carefully, she slipped down the stairs and through the halls. Delilah’s guards were easy to avoid, too filled with the exhilaration of victory to warrant caution. As she expected, Ramsey’s voice emanated from the throne room. He sounded happy, prideful in the wake of his triumph. So, he thought his treachery would bring him good fortune and a return to wealth and aristocracy.

That was how little her family mattered to him.

Her boiling blood threatened to spill over, driving her toward rage.

He was walking toward her now, leaving the throne room. She let him pass, then followed him, silent as a night-breeze. Soon, they had left the guard-filled rooms behind. Just a little further and she could take him down without notice. Her father had always said it was best to show mercy, and to never kill when there was another way; so she held back, unsure of how to dispose of him.

Then she miss-stepped. Her foot slipped sideways, landing on the wrong floor board. It was a tiny noise, but Ramsey heard. He spun around, his sword sliding out.

“You!” He was surprised to see her.

She blocked a vicious strike aimed at her head, knocking him back. Taking the opening, she grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around and pulling him into a chokehold. He fought back, his powerful body writhing under her grip. She held on all the harder, tightening her grip on his throat. Suddenly, he propelled himself backwards, slamming her up against the wall and breaking her hold. Before she could block him, he slashed down at her wildly, slicing her arm as she rolled out of the way. Blood welled up around the cut, running down her arm.

This had to end.

She parried another blow, again sending him stumbling back. This time, she did not hesitate. While he was unguarded, she drove her blade through his chest, the steel sliding easily through his ribs. He grunted, sounding surprised at the sensation. She wondered if what he felt now was anything like what Alexi had felt.

Surprising her, he threw her back, wrenching the blade from his ribs. He lunged for her, blood staining his teeth and dribbling from his snarling lips. He had dropped his sword at the blow, and she caught it up from the floor, dodging his attack and grabbing his shoulder as he passed her by. She drove it through his other side, the tip protruding through the front of his bloody guard jacket. He choked, collapsing to the floor.

She retrieved her sword from his limp hand, wiping the blood from the blade. “That was for Alexi, you bastard,” she ground out, catching her breath.

The ring was in his pocket, and she took it, slipping it onto her finger. She wouldn’t let it out of her sight again. Now she could leave the tower behind. She rushed back up the stairs, hardly taking time to avoid the few guards patrolling the upper halls.

Alexi was still breathing when she returned to the royal chambers, and she whispered a soft prayer of thanks to whatever god might be watching over them.

“Hang on, love,” she murmured, lifting Alexi tenderly against her chest. “It won’t be long now. You’ll be alright.” She added the last part more to reassure herself than for Alexi.

With a twist of her wrist, the door of the safe room slid open. The familiar space calmed her slightly, and she remembered the nights she spent there after the plague. In the security of the chamber, she had been able to finally find peace from the horrors of her dreams. Now all that she had feared then was come to life. She gripped Alexi tighter, closing the door behind her. If she lost her, she honestly didn’t know what she would do.

Alexi had always been there for her, even when she knew she hadn’t deserved it. After the attack when they were both fourteen, she had come to trust her as much as her father. And… well, the rest was history. She had always been able to simply be Emily around her, leaving behind the stoic mask of the empress.

She left the tower without a second thought, letting the heavy door close behind her with a finalistic thud. She knew she would have to return one day, for her father; but she couldn’t bring herself to think of that now. She could only think of the way Alexi’s blood was slowly staining the front of her jacket. She had to get somewhere safe and properly bandage the wound. She tried to stop her mind from racing on beyond that, and from settling on the chance that Alexi could die.

Emerging from the dark hall, she saw the roof tops of Dunwall stretching down to the sea. She knew the roofs well, as she would sometimes escape across them in the night. Sometimes Alexi would go with her, racing her across the dizzying gaps and crazily pitched shingles. It was dangerous, but on those nights she felt truly free.

Stepping down onto the hard shingles, she shifted Alexi over her shoulder, freeing one of her hands. She hoped the movement wouldn’t worsen the bleeding. Slipping past the guards in the city below wasn’t hard, and soon she was close to the harbor.

Gulls called, and a stiff breeze blew in from the sea. She stood on a balcony looking out over the docks. A ship lay at anchor a little way out on the water. It must be Foster’s ship. A rusty old duct extended out over the water, and she moved toward it. From it, she could drop down into the water and bypass the heavily guarded dock entirely.

She dropped down into the cover of a few crates, catching herself with her free hand as Alexi’s weight threatened to throw her off balance. Swiftly, she slipped past the few guards between her and the final building before the water. A crate made it easy for her to clamber up to the roof, and from there she made her way out onto the duct work.

The water was shockingly cold, and she fought to pull herself and Alexi above the surface. The ship seemed impossibly far away as she swam toward it, holding Alexi tightly. The blood from her arm and Alexi’s terrible wound mixed together, staining the water around them crimson. Finally, her strength failing, she reached the ship. She hauled herself up, heaving Alexi up out of the water after her. With considerable difficulty, she dragged herself up over the last railing and onto the ship’s deck.

Coughing, she sunk to her knees, cradling Alexi against her chest. Her heart was still beating, and Emily let out a deep sigh of relief. She let her eyes close for a second, drawing a deep breath. Slowly, she became aware of a woman staring down at her.

“Lady Emily.” It was said with a wry sense of humor. “You and captain Mayhew look like you’ve seen better days.”

Biting back her irritation, Emily attempted to reply civilly. “You could say that.” She managed to keep her tone even. “There’s a coup underway, and my...” She paused, realizing she couldn’t say what Alexi truly was to her. “My friend is dying. I could care less how we look.”

The woman walked toward her, bending down. “My name is Meagan Foster. I work with an old ally of yours, Anton Sokolov. We learned something scary down in the south, and I came to warn you.”

Sokolov. Her old teacher. What did he have to do with this?

“I know Anton, but Corvo is gone.” Emily caught her breath, saying it somehow making it real. “The duke of Serkonos is here, with a woman named Delilah. They massacred everyone in the throne room, then she did something I can’t explain. There was nothing to do but run.” She looked down at Alexi, remembering the terror she felt in the moment Ramsey drove his blade through her.

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.” Foster looked down at them. “And you’re right, captain Mayhew doesn’t look in a good way. You should bandage that wound properly before she loses any more blood. Come on, I can give you what you’ll need, but I won’t be much help with any hand-work.” She held up the short right sleeve of her jacket.

Emily nodded mutely, pushing up off the deck. She followed Foster below decks to a small cabin. There was a bed in one corner, and she laid Alexi down carefully. She realized belatedly that they were both soaking wet from the swim across the harbor.

She couldn’t remove the sopping clothing till Foster returned with medical supplies, though, as the make-shift bandage keeping Alexi alive was wound over her dress jacket. In the moment of enforced stillness, Emily dropped to her knees beside the bed, taking Alexi’s hand and resting her forehead against the edge of the mattress. She had never been the praying sort, the memories from her childhood making it hard for her to believe in any force of universal good in the universe, but now she was ready to pray to any god that might answer her pleas.

A sound in the doorway told of Foster’s return, and Emily struggled back to her feet, the moment broken. Entering the tiny room, Foster handed her a box filled with medical supplies. Her father had taught her to look after herself, so she was fairly certain she could help Alexi. At least she hoped she could.

Foster tilted her head to the side, studying Alexi. “I’ve seen a lot of people die, Majesty, and most of them passed long before they got to the point captain Mayhew is at now.”

Emily glared at her, pausing for a moment. “I won’t let her die.” She said it with more conviction than she felt.

She lifted a knife from the box, cutting through the strips of torn fabric bound around the wound. Alexi’s jacket was coated in partially coagulated blood, and Emily peeled it away carefully. Gently, she unbuttoned the undershirt beneath it. Alexi’s skin was pale, the combination of blood loss and cold water rendering her nearly grey. Emily had seen corpses less pale.

She grimaced, looking at the wound now exposed to the air. It was clean and small, but blood still trickled around the neat edges. She hoped the blade hadn’t struck any organs in its journey through Alexi’s abdomen. The external wound was small enough to be stitched, though. Shakily, she threaded a needle, then carefully stitched the neat puncture closed. She winced as she forced the needle through Alexi’s flesh, murmuring a silent apology. Once she had closed both the entry point and the exit wound on Alexi’s back, she wound a dry bandage back around her.

Now all she could do was keep her warm and hope for the best.

“Whenever you’re ready to get out of Dunwall, just say the word.” Foster still stood in the doorway, eyeing her carefully. “Best we leave before the guards think to start searching ships in the harbor.”

She rested her head in her hands, her mind racing. How had they come to this point? The crown killer murders had driven the empire mad, setting her up for a fall. How had she not seen it before?

“I need to get to Karnaca, where the crown killer murders started. Delilah must have been down there for a while, and I’ve got to figure out what’s going on.” She let her hands fall, staring up at the ceiling.

“Karnaca it is, then.” Foster turned away, leaving her alone with Alexi.

As the door closed behind Foster, Emily let out a deep breath. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts clamoring in her brain. Alexi. She was still dressed in her sopping uniform, slowly getting colder and colder. Finally forcing herself to move, she removed the rest of Alexi’s soaked clothing, then covered her with the heavy blanket that lay at the foot of the bed.

She found herself holding Alexi’s bloody jacket, staring down at the gore coated fabric. She had always known how easy it would be to lose everything again, but somehow she had managed to leave the dread behind for a while. Now it was back, settling in the pit of her stomach. Alexi… her father. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to speak to either of them again. She could hardly bear to think of her poor father. The last she saw, Delilah had cast him in stone. He could be dead. How could she be such a fool, letting her responsibilities slide as she had? If only she had done better, tried harder…

But these dark thoughts wouldn’t get her anywhere. Were Alexi awake, she would have told her it wasn’t her fault. She looked down at Alexi’s pale face against the pillows. It didn’t matter what she would say. Emily’s negligence had cost her dearly.

“I’m so sorry, Alexi.” Emily murmured, brushing the wet strands of hair back out of her face.

A shiver wracked her frame, reminding her of the soaked clothing hanging off her body. She cast her jacket off, and fought out of her boots. The snug leather clung to her, and it was all she could do to wrench them off her feet. She found a spare set of breaches and a shirt in one of the drawers of the cabinets lining the wall. The pants were too short for her long legs, but she had no other options.

Finally relatively warm, she allowed herself a moment to look around. The room was small, but well-lit and fairly clean. There was a lock on the door, and she slid it into place gratefully. Though she had a nagging suspicion it wouldn’t be able to keep Foster out, the idea of a locked door between her and the rest of the world made her more comfortable.

The adrenaline that had coursed through her veins during the escape from the tower was fading away, leaving her empty and tired. She sunk down onto the bed beside Alexi, her legs finally giving out. She lay down carefully, unconsciously wrapping a protective arm over Alexi’s chest. She was so cold, Emily realized. She would likely do more good beneath the covers than on top of them. Sliding beneath the heavy blanket, she laid her hand against Alexi’s side. It was icy to the touch, and she drew in a sharp breath.

Gently, she shifted closer, pressing up against Alexi’s side. She hadn’t gotten her this far only for her to die. A shiver rippled through her, Alexi’s chill sinking into her flesh. Her eyes drifted shut, her body craving sleep despite all her worries. The last thing she remembered was the gentle rocking of the boat, and the impossible cold.

**Author's Note:**

> There are probably errors galore, both in the architecture of Dunwall tower and in the workings of the plot.  
> Also, I am not entirely sure where exactly I'm going with this, but I think it will probably follow the plot of the game generally, but deviate to compensate for Alexi being alive, and for her and Emily's established relationship.


End file.
